


so many times have we seen the morning star burn

by qelos (midheaven)



Category: Keyakizaka46 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midheaven/pseuds/qelos
Summary: you’ve always noticed them. the pianist.or: when kobayashi yui starts practicing in a new room, she bites off more than she can chew.





	so many times have we seen the morning star burn

**Author's Note:**

> i think it’s important to note that this is a WIP that’s never going to be properly finished. for those who read this the first time around, thanks and apologies. (this ends quite differently from how i left it last time).
> 
> title from pablo neruda.

_ every day you play with the light of the universe / subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water / how you must have suffered getting accustomed to me / my savage, solitary soul.  _

pablo neruda

  
  


-

  
  


you’ve always liked the northwest wing a little more.    
  
it faces the sunset, so when you practice here, everything is in this soft, rose-golden glow. you like the way it reflects off your saxophone, you like the way how it seems to drown the entire room in romance, you like how it gets you in the perfect mood to play.    
  
sure, this wing is a bit older than the rest of the campus—the practice rooms aren't soundproofed, either. but that’s okay.    
  
because the pianist who uses the room next to you is just as much a part of your practice as doing your scales.    
  
  
-   
  
  
you’ve always noticed them. the pianist.    
  
at first you thought you’d bother them—from what you could tell, she’s a proper classical music student. what would they think when the person next to their room suddenly started blasting duke ellington hits?   
  
but this is the first practice room you’ve felt comfortable in, far enough from the newer areas of the campus, where everyone seems to hang out after class. that’s an energy you can’t really deal with, so when yuuka told you about these rooms, you immediately wanted to try them.    
  
but you’ve never received a complaint, and nobody’s barged into your room in the middle of you playing to tell you to quit it and find another place, so you take it as a good sign.    
  
  
-   
  
  
one afternoon, something strangely magical happens.    
  
you hear them playing something, and the tune makes you itch for a bit. you’re pretty sure you’ve heard it before, and—ah. it clicks.    
  
it’s singelee. opus 78. a work composed for  _ alto saxophone and piano _ . it’s one of the first things you learned when you decided you’d go high level.    
  
your palms sweat, and your fingers tap listlessly on your sax. there’d be no harm to play along with the pianist next door, right?    
  
you lick your lips and take a deep breath. you start playing.    
  
you hear the piano stutter for a bit, and you panic—should you have not?—but less than a second later it continues, and the two of you play and play and play.   
  
and you’re reminded of why you pursued music in the first place—this magic, this wonder that’s rushing through your body, this excitement you haven’t felt in a long time.    
  
it’s exhilarating, playing with this pianist. they’re incredibly skilled—you’ve surmised that a long time ago—but their piano is almost speaking to you. even though you haven’t played this in a long time, you seem to get every single note right, the piano coaxing it out of you, your fingers moving on their own.    
  
for the first time since getting here, there’s someone you desperately want to meet.    
  
  
  
-   
  
  
not much magic happens after that.    
  
the two of you go about your days as normal. they arrive, start playing, and then you arrive, and you start your own practice. and no matter how much you want to meet them, they always seem to end their practice much, much later than you and you can’t afford to miss your 6:45 train going home or your mother will be furious.    
  
so you settle with listening to singelee’s opus 78 before going to bed.    
  
  
-   
  
after a few weeks, when you enter your room, it’s eerily silent.    
  
no gentle trickle of the piano anywhere to be found.    
  
you wait for a couple minutes—maybe they’re just resting—but after twenty, you give up. they’re not here.    
  
you take out your sheets and decide to work on your own. this is how practice is supposed to work anyway, right?   
  
but four measures in and you want to pull your hair out. everything is suddenly off-kilter. the light is too harsh, the room is suffocating.    
  
you pack up and leave early. you’ll practice at home instead.    
  
  
-   
  
  
“pon,” manaka asks you during lunch. “are you okay?”   
  
you look up. “huh?”   
  
“you haven’t eaten a thing,” she tells you, and points at your bento.    
  
you glance down. she’s right. you usually finish your food in the blink of an eye. the cafeteria’s always made you uncomfortable, so you’re always in a hurry to leave.    
  
“oh,” you say.    
  
“is there something wrong?”   
  
_ terribly _ , you want to answer, but it’s stupid. you haven’t heard the piano next to your room being played in days. it almost feels like a hole has formed in your heart.   
  
how has a person you know nothing about already crawled under your skin like this?   
  
“nothing,” you tell her instead. “i just have a lot on my mind.”   
  
“clearly,” manaka deadpans. “you wanna talk about it?”   
  
you shake your head and take a bite of your food, finally. “not really, no.”   
  
manaka smiles and nods. this is what you like about her; she doesn’t push. she never pushes. she knows that if there’s something you want to take up with her, you will. “alright,” she says. “whenever you’re ready, pon, i’m all ears.”   
  
you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready, though.    
  
  
-   
  
“kobayashi,” your teacher calls. “you seem to be tripping on measure 37.”   
  
murmurs erupt through the class. you want to curse under your breath. you’ve always been a leading example, but today, you struggle.    
  
your teacher taps his baton. “1, 2, and—“   
  
the reed doesn’t sit well in your mouth. the sound that comes out your saxophone is wonky. your teacher’s mouth sets into a line.    
  
“again.”   
  
your hands tighten around your sax.    
  
  
-   
  
  
it’s wednesday.    
  
you mostly head to your practice room out of habit now, and partly also to get used to playing without the pianist next door. four measures has now become sixteen, and maybe in time, you’ll start being able to play whole pieces without being suffocated by the silence.    
  
but you hear it. you  _ hear it _ .    
  
at first you think it’s your imagination, but you quickly confirm it’s not as you head closer.  _ another pianist? _ no, you would have noticed that right away.    
  
after a few more seconds your heart eases. it’s really them—and playing such a corny piece, too. gymnopedie no. 1   
  
it’s such a calming tune that it settles your nerves. your warm-ups go well, your breathing is good, which in turn makes the sounds from your sax fuller and richer.    
  
you go through measure 37 without a hitch on your first try.    
  
  
-   
  
  
today’s your chance, you think.    
  
your professor for your last class is out, which means you’ll be heading to the northwest wing a little earlier than usual.    
  
okay, a lot earlier than usual. a whole two hours earlier.    
  
maybe you’ll finally catch them—the person who’s been defining your days at this school lately.    
  
you head there, and as you near, you don’t hear a thing. you sit on the floor right outside your usual room, your fingers tapping on your saxophone case. could that mean you’re earlier? or are they absent again?   
  
you don’t wonder for long, because after a few moments you hear footsteps echoing throughout the hall.    
  
you glance up. the footsteps slow the closer they get to you, and you stumble a bit in your rush to stand up.    
  
the figure that appears in front of you is the slightest thing of a girl—she almost looks like a fairy. wide eyes, short hair, small frame.   
  
and incredibly pretty, too, you think.    
  
she looks at you in muted shock before glancing at your instrument case.    
  
she gasps and grins. “alto sax?” she says, looking at you.    
  
“uh, yeah,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck. “piano?” you ask.    
  
she nods. “yeah!” her smile still wide on her face. she studies you, careful, but not judgmental. curious, you think, and almost—hopeful, even.    
  
“honestly, i didn’t expect you to be a girl,” she says, then immediately claps a hand to her mouth. “sorry! not what i meant! it’s just there’s not a lot of girls who play alto sax—”

  
you wave your hand. “yeah, no, i get it a lot,” you answer. “it’s okay.”   
  
she winces. “i’m still sorry.”    
  
she’s so bright. almost unbelievably bright. she always sounds somber when she plays—on beat no matter what, plays as the composer intended, no personal flairs whatsoever. completely the opposite of how you play, of jazz’ principles completely. but standing in front of you is—a nebula. just fills up a space with colour and light. you want to reach out to her, want to know how the pianist and the person fit together.    
  
“as much as i’d love to call you alto sax,” she begins, interrupting your thoughts, “because that’s what i’ve been calling you in my head ever since i’ve heard you play, i’d really, really like to know your name.”   
  
you can’t really say no to a smile like that. “kobayashi,” you say. “kobayashi yui.”   
  
she claps her hands together in delight. “oh, we have the same name!” she exclaims.    
  
“kobayashi?” you ask, an eyebrow raised. it’s a crudely common name.    
  
“no, silly,” she says, giggling. she shows you her clearbook, presumably where she keeps her pieces. there’s a label on the front. “my name is imaizumi,” she tells you, pointing to it. “imaizumi yui.”   
  
you’ve never been fond of your name—kobayashi is common, and so is yui, so you’ve always felt a bit too ordinary. but she seems so pleased that you have matching names that you can’t bring yourself to hate it as much anymore.    
  
“it’s nice to finally meet you,” you tell her. “and put a face to the music you play. you’re wonderful, by the way.”   
  
“thank you,” she says, ducking her head while her cheeks turn pink. “i find your playing quite nice too. i like hearing it from next door.”   
  
“i feel the same,” you say. and before you could stop yourself: “i couldn’t focus without you.”   
  
yui looks up. “what do you mean?”   
  
“n-nothing!” you stammer. now it’s your turn to flush. “nothing—i didn’t say anything,” you say.    
  
she chuckles, then looks at you with a thoughtful expression. “when i was away, i found it hard to practice without you, too.”   
  
  
-   
  
  
the moment you reach home, you find the nearest blank music sheet you find, and begin writing.    
  
_ today’s spring _ , you title it.    
  
  
-   
  
  
your weekend couldn’t have been more ill-timed.    
  
the wait seems eternal, at this rate. imaizumi yui had torn down all your walls with a single smile and seems to intend to stay.    
  
  
-   
  
  
you play it as cool as you can. when you head to the northwest wing, you pretend as if nothing had happened. but once you’ve assembled your saxophone, you hear a knock on your door.    
  
you don’t want to admit how your heart skips a beat. “yes?”   
  
the door opens to yui beaming at you. “hey, alto sax,” she greets. “where do you go home?”   
  
“meguro,” you answer. “why?”   
  
“do you take the train?”    
  
“i do.”   
  
“sweet!” she says. “let’s go home together?”   
  
“oh,” you exhale. “but i have to catch the 6:45, though.”   
  
yui frowns. “that’s a problem because …?”   
  
“i’ve never left later than you,” you answer. “you always stay longer.”   
  
yui grins at you again, and you inhale. “well i don’t have a reason to stay long here anymore,” she says. “let’s go home together.”   
  
  
-   
  
  
stupid imaizumi yui and her stupid, big smile.    
  
your fingers fumbled your entire way through practice.    
  
and you’re sure she heard all your mistakes. whatever.   
  
  
-   
  
  
“so you’re in jazz studies,” yui says as you two begin to walk to the station.    
  
“yeah,” you answer.    
  
“have you always liked jazz?” she asks you.    
  
you shrug. “hard question to answer,” you reply, scuffing your shoe unto the pavement. “i mean, i listened to it, of course, when i started the sax, but what really appealed to me wasn’t the music per se; it’s how they prioritise improvisation and creative freedom.”   
  
you hear yui giggle from beside you. she seems to laugh at everything—not that you’re complaining. “that sounds very nice,” she says. “i could never. i started learning piano when i was three and discipline was really instilled in me since then.”   
  
“would it be weird if i told you i could tell from your playing?” you ask.    
  
“not at all,” she replies, shaking her head. “you can learn a lot from a musician’s playing. especially if you’re a musician, too—which you are.”   
  
you smile. “i do feel like i know a lot about you already.”   
  
yui looks up— _ she has to look up to meet your gaze _ —and nods, that ever present grin as bright as ever. “i feel the same way.”   
  
you don’t talk much after that. the station is too crowded, and so is the train; having a conversation would be too inconvenient. your station is before hers, so you say a quiet goodbye before you step out onto the platform.    
  
  
-   
  
  
it becomes an everyday thing.    
  
you start your practice at 5:00, and by 6:30 yui is knocking at your door. you walk together to the station—sometimes you get a bite to eat along the way—then you ride the train. you get off at your station, you wave each other goodbye.    
  
it’s so simple, but it’s really, really nice.    
  
  
-   
  
“you’ve been smiling a lot more when you get home, yui-chan,” your mother tells you. “i’m so happy that you’re enjoying school.”   
  
you almost choke on the water you’re drinking.   
  
  
-   
  
  
“what are you watching?”   
  
yui leans closer to you. on the cramped train, you were already seated close enough, but now that she’s leaned in—you’re a bit overwhelmed.    
  
“it’s, um.” you take out one of your earbuds and tilt the screen a bit, so yui can see too. “it’s an improv session. wanna look?”   
  
yui nods, takes the earbud you hand her. you press play, and you watch as yui’s expression morphs into one of absolute fascination.    
  
“yeah,” you say. “that’s how i felt too.”   
  
“they’re just … they’re just playing along with one another?” she asks.    
  
“well,” you explain, “in this case, the sax takes the lead, but everyone else is teaming up so the sax can do whatever they want. so, yeah—they’re just playing along.”   
  
“that’s amazing,” she says, a little bit breathless.    
  
you watch in silence until the video ends, after which yui practically yanks the earbud out of her ear and says, “we should do this, alto sax!”   
  
“eh?!” you stare at her, looking for any signs that she’s joking—absolutely none. “are you sure? you said you’ve never even tried—“   
  
“that’s the point! i really wanna try this,” she tells you. “let’s try this, alto sax.”   
  
she sounds so excited about it—and that damn smile.    
  
“tomorrow.”   
  
“yay!”   
  
  
-   
  
  
“this looks exactly like my practice room, but it still feels weird.”   
  
“yeah,” you answer, wiping down your saxophone. “it feels weird to not be alone here, too.”   
  
you take your time to set up; yui warms up on the keys. you almost have to stop at first. hearing her play through the walls was something, but having her play right next to you is a totally different experience.    
  
once you’re ready, yui sets her hands on her lap and asks, “so how does this work?”   
  
“well, we could start with just improvising off of something simple,” you say. “like remixing.”   
  
“okay,” she nods.    
  
“twinkle twinkle little star is always good,” you tell her, and yui laughs.    
  
you start playing—it’s refreshing, playing something so simple after a slew of demanding repertoires. you embellish twinkle twinkle, make it as jazzy as you can, and soon enough, you find yui’s foot tapping to the beat.    
  
“you really are a wonderful player,” she tells you when you finish. “i never knew twinkle twinkle could be something i’d bop too.”   
  
you giggle. “that’s jazz. wanna take a shot at accompanying it?”   
  
yui nods. “let’s do this!”   
  
“it’s in a-flat,” you tell her.    
  
she scoffs. “okay, i might be new at this whole improvising thing, but i know  _ that _ much.”   
  
the two of you start playing, and if you thought that opus 78 was magic, then this must be divine.    
  
it’s a lot more intimate than playing a memorised piece. you’re feeding off of yui’s energy, and she’s feeding off yours—you’re holding each other’s hand as you take the next step.    
  
granted, yui leaves a lot to be desired; her background is in classical piano, after all, not jazz, so the techniques and melodies she pulls are more 1700s vienna instead of 1920s new york. but that’s okay, because she listens so well to what you’re playing, and does her best to go along. besides—she’s so technically skilled that she really doesn’t need that much help before she settles into a more jazz-like groove.    
  
eventually though, you run out of breath and you need a minute, so you slowly coda and yui ritards with you. when you stop, your fingers are tingling and you’re bit lightheaded—but you’re pretty sure it’s not from exhaustion.    
  
“that … was really fun, alto sax,” yui says. she spins around, and her eyes are wild, her smile almost blinding. “this is what you do?”   
  
“we do it a lot in ensemble, yeah,” you say. “not to twinkle twinkle little star, though.”   
  
yui laughs, again—the really loud one that makes her eyes disappear and she raises her hand to her mouth. and you just stare, because the sun is setting behind her, and you’ve just heard her play for you, and she looks so inexplicably happy that it all swirls up in your chest in a mess of emotions.    
  
this time it’s not your saxophone that makes your lungs run out of air.    
  
  
-   
  
  
you stare at your bedroom ceiling.   
  
_ this is bad _ , you think.    
  
you really should’ve seen this coming.    
  
you couldn’t stop thinking about her when you  _ didn’t even know who she was.  _   
  
“i’ve got a crush,” you whisper to yourself. “i have a stupid, goddamn crush.”   
  
  
-   
  
  
the stupidest fucking things about crushes, you think, is the moment you acknowledge one, the universe seems to realign.    
  
you see yui  _ everywhere _ now. frankly you’ve never seen her outside the northwest wing and the train station. but today you just saw her in the hall on your way to theory class.    
  
she gives you a small wave and a smile. you manage a nod before your practically dash away.    
  
you see her at lunch, too—but she doesn’t see you, thank god.    
  
you see her one more time before you walk to the northwest wing: you excused yourself to go to the bathroom during band class, and saw her all the way on the other side of the hall. this time, too, it’s just you who sees her.    
  
and the fact that seeing her thrice throws your world upside-down and messes with your head is … tragic. you need to get yourself together.    
  
christ, how are you gonna talk to her later?   
  
  
-   
  
  
she’s in your practice room.    
  
“uh,” you say, when you enter. “yui-chan?”   
  
“alto sax!” she greets. “i figured we could just share this room, because practicing in separate rooms seems a bit silly now, doesn’t it?” she tilts her head to the side. “unless you still want to keep to yourself, which i totally understand.”

you go over your pieces. none of them are too bad, you think. you’ve pretty much got them all down. and you could use the company. 

  
  


-

  
  


“earth to kobayashi,” manaka waves her chopsticks in front of you. “houston, i think we’ve lost them.”

“if you’re saying ‘earth to kobayashi’, then you  _ are  _ houston. dumbass,” risa points out. 

“sorry, guys,” you mumble. “i’ve just got something stupid on my mind.”

you and yui have been sharing the practice room for a week now, and it’s doing nothing for your feelings. 

ugh, you want to bang your head against this stupid table. because of your stupid feelings. 

“hey, nothing’s stupid when it comes to us,” manaka tells you, all teasing gone. “you wanna talk about it?”

you stare at the two of them—they’ve known you forever, so they deserve to know, right? but god, they’re gonna tease you to hell and back. jesus christ. their faces are completely neutral right now but they might as well be devils. 

okay, they deserve to know a  _ little.  _

you sigh. “i think i like someone.”

manaka and risa, being manaka and risa, react unnecessarily dramatically—all choking food and beating chests and heaving breaths. 

“damn, pon,” manaka says, when she’s calmed herself. “could have waited until we finished our food.”

you scoff. “you wouldn’t stop bugging me.”

“she’s right,” risa adds. 

“anyway!” manaka claps her hands together, then shoots you a smirk. “how long have you liked them? do you think they like you back? are they charming? tall? are their eyes like—”

“ _ shida _ ,” you warn. “it’s all a bit new to me, okay? i’ll—i need to figure it out first.”

manaka purses her lips together while risa looks like she’s holding herself back from laughing. risa always finds it amusing when manaka is shut up by someone else. 

“we got you, yuipon,” risa tells you, face completely sincere now. “talk to us whenever you’re ready. we’ll be your wingmen if you need us.” she shoots you a wink. 

your shoulders sag in relief. at least you can count on  _ one  _ friend. 

  
  


-

  
  


“why jazz?” yui asks you. 

it’s that awkward lull in the middle of the semester where there isn’t much pressure to do anything. in your shared practice room, the two of you end up lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, sheets of music laying forgotten in your school bags. 

you shrug. “i wanted to go to this school, and the jazz studies program is more lax on acceptance.”

yui punches your shoulder and laughs. “i know you’re not serious. come on.”

“i don’t know,” you admit, quiet. “my parents have never liked it when i started taking music seriously—they were fine when it was just a hobby, like ‘ _ oh, look, our yui-chan can play this! _ ’, but as a serious career …”

“i see.” yui nods. “that attitude is common in japan, unfortunately.”

“yeah,” you agree. “and at the time, my experience with jazz was a bit new. it was about only a year since i adapted their techniques, but i was so in love with—everything. the music, the style, the principles it’s built upon. i just found it the most incredible thing. and my parents wanted me at least to pursue music and join the tokyo philharmonic, or whatever. i was tired of them showing me off like some trophy and then not respecting what my true wishes were, so as a final ‘fuck you’ to them, i applied for the jazz program.”

this is the part where yui usually lets out a soft giggle—the one you think that’s like champagne, light and golden and bubbly. but it’s silent, and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. 

you tilt your head to face her—her face is unreadable, her eyes boring into yours and her mouth open for the softest breaths. she surprises you when she reaches out to touch your face. 

“you’re amazing, kobayashi yui,” she exhales, fingers sliding down your cheek. 

you want to look away; you can’t. she can probably feel your cheeks warming up, can see you biting your lip out of shyness. 

“i’m not,” you deny, your barely a whisper. 

if she stares at you any longer, you feel your chest might explode. 

“yeah, you are.” a smile slowly makes its way across her face. “i think you going after what you want is the most badass thing in the universe.”

your breath stutters. everyone who’s found out you’ve decided on this path has either chided you, made fun of you, or given you looks of pity. but here’s a girl who you think can light up the entire sky, thinking you’re amazing. telling you you’re amazing.

“thank you,” is all you can manage to say.

  
  


-

  
  


_ today’s spring  _ sits on your desk, its progress frustratingly slow. 

you’ve finished a good chunk of it—you estimate it’s already about two minutes long—but tonight is a challenge. 

_ you’re amazing, kobayashi yui. _

what she made you feel, with those four words—how are you supposed to put them on paper?

it seems trivial now, all of a sudden. the way the warm light casts off her hair, the light touch of her hand on your cheek. do you expect a series of notes written on a set of lines to be able to encapsulate all of that?

for the first time, music seems to fail you.

  
  


-

your father has an awful habit of putting all of his calls on speaker— _ the radiation _ !, he’d say. 

so even if he’s in his study and you’re in your room, you hear your uncle asahi ask, “ _ how’s your little girl _ ?  _ little yui? _ ”

“oh, she’s fantastic,” your father answers. “she’s doing her best.”

“ _ is she still set on playing the trumpet? _ ” uncle asahi asks. you clench your jaw. 

your father pauses. “it’s the saxophone,” he answers. “and yes, she is.”

“ _ ah, she’ll come around someday. _ ” uncle asahi laughs.

you don’t realise how hard you’ve been gripping your pencil until it snaps in half.

  
  


-

  
  


it doesn’t bother you as much, though. 

the universe does its thing where it puts yui in your path again, and you see her laughing with a couple of her classmates at the quad. 

_ you’re amazing, kobayashi yui.  _

uncle asahi’s voice quiets down in your head until you don’t hear it anymore.

  
  


-

  
  


“are you making any new friends, yui-chan?” your mother asks you as you wash the dishes together.

only one face comes to mind, but you cast it away. you still want her all to yourself, just for now.

“i’m a bit too busy, mom,” you answer. “i’m still close with manaka and risa, though.”

“come on, honey,” she says. “a few more wouldn’t hurt.”

you don’t know how to say that only a girl with gentle hands and wide eyes was able to break down your walls.

  
  


-

  
  


“hey, alto sax,” yui calls from where she’s seated at the piano. “are you busy tonight?”

you look at her and frown. “i don’t think so,” you answer. “why?”

“i want to go out for ice cream,” she says under her breath, a mischievous grin on her face. like it’s a secret. 

you laugh and take a look at the clock. you have time. 

“okay, let’s get ice cream.”

yui practically jumps three feet into the air. “yay!”

  
  


-

  
  


as it turns out, yui isn’t too familiar with ice cream stores in the area, so you take the lead. 

your favourite one is about just three minutes from the train station. it’s difficult to spot, but you’ll see it if you’re looking for it. not a lot of people know about it, which is great, because you’re not too fond of a lot of people anyway. 

she takes a bite of what she ordered—vanilla. it surprised you a bit, when she placed it, because she seemed like the type to go for those more elaborate, nuanced flavors, but this turns out to be her favourite. 

“i just grew up eating it,” she shrugged. 

now she’s humming, a completely pleased expression on her face as she digs into it. she’s  _ so  _ small—she comes up to just about your shoulder, and with how she’s practically skipping beside you, you forget that she’s a good year older than you. 

it’s really cute, but you don’t want to admit that. 

“this is really good,” yui manages through a mouthful.

“i’m glad,” you reply, and you are. there are few things that make you happier than bringing a smile unto yui’s face.

“do you go to that place a lot, alto sax?” she asks you. 

“i used to.” you take another scoop of your ice cream. you got matcha, today. “haven’t had the time lately, though.”

“the shopkeeper talked to me, while you weren’t listening,” she tells you. “told me she’s thankful i got you to come by.”

“oh?” you look at her, brows raised. “i didn’t know she’d miss me. i’ll make sure to visit more often.”

you expect an answer, but instead yui just giggles and ducks her head away behind her hand, shy. 

“what? what is it?” you ask. 

she looks back up at you. “nothing, i—” she chuckles softly again. “even the ice cream shop owner is charmed by kobayashi yui. no one is spared.”

you don’t know what she means, but yui’s cheeks, you think, turn the slightest shade of pink.

the day is turning to night, you suppose. she’s just getting cold.

  
  


-

  
  


you finish both your cups before the train arrives, and you’re both lucky enough that there’s still an available bench where two people can sit beside each other. 

the two of you talk a bit more than on a normal trip home together. she tells you about the new shoes she bought over the weekend, the new smartphone game she’s obsessed with. she also tells you about her family—four older brothers, all musicians in their own right. two violinists, a flautist, and a clarinetist.

“so do you have like, family jam sessions?” you ask, teasing.

she gives an amused scoff. “you could say that.” 

you tell her stories, too—about how your parents seem to be more accepting of your current choice day by day. you tell her what album you’ve had repeat on lately, and what new dish you just learned how to make.

you used to find the mass of bodies and the clanking of the train too much, too loud for you to think. but the weight of yui’s hand on your knee drowns everything out, keeps you tethered.

  
  


-

  
  


when your station nears, you can’t help but feel disappointed.

this is the loveliest day you’ve had in a while, and— 

you can’t help yourself.

it  _ kinda  _ felt like a date.

you’re with the girl you like, and you got ice cream, and you’re on the train home together and it’s—nice. it’s just really,  _ really  _ nice. 

you don’t want it to end.

but your station is announced, and the train doors open, and when you step out onto the platforms— 

“alto sax!” you hear yui call, and the next thing you know, she’s beside you, her hand holding yours.

“yui-chan!” you take a step back in surprise. you stare at her, flabbergasted, before saying, “what are you  _ doing? _ ”

“i want to walk you home,” she answers, clinging onto your arm,

this is it, you think. this is how you die.

you take a breath in. you exhale. “alright,” you say.

  
  


-

  
  


the walk to your home is quiet.

you want to say something, but they all get lodged in your throat. still, though, you fear if this silence continues, she’ll hear how loud your heart is pounding in your chest.

the night is colder, and yui doesn’t have anything to keep her warm, so you can feel her hugging your arm tighter and closer to her. she’s warm and solid against you, and you can take comfort in at least  _ that,  _ because every part of you is practically a blaring siren at this point.

“don’t you have anywhere to be?” you ask, a flailing attempt to rid yourself of your tension.

you feel more than see yui shake her head. “the house is empty today,” she tells you, voice small. “that’s why i asked you for ice cream, i just—i didn’t want to be alone. wanted to spend a little more time with some company.”

you nod. that’s what this was, right? you’re yui’s friend, and friends keep each other company when they’re lonely.

_ god,  _ you’re pathetic. that was probably the stupidest thing your brain has ever come up with.

when your house starts to come into view, you have to stop yourself from releasing a sigh. your footsteps slow out of habit, right before you turn the corner, but yui doesn’t know this yet, so she kind of—trips.

“oh!” you say, and you’re glad she’s clung to your arm this whole time, because that means you can kind of lift her up before she can fall down completely. “i’m sorry, i should have told you. that’s—” you point at your front gate, “—my house.” 

“oh,” yui says. “i didn’t realise. it’s lovely.”

“thank you.” you smile at her.

she lets go of your arm, then, and turns a bit so she’s standing in front of you instead of beside you. she looks at you, and her eyes—are different. she looks troubled, almost, her mouth in a line.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“i’m sorry, i was just—i was thinking.” her voice is so soft that you had to strain a bit to hear her, even in your quiet neighbourhood.

“what were you thinking about that got you like this?” you ask. “i’ve never seen you so quiet.”

“well,” she says, taking a step towards you. “i was thinking about if i should do this.”

and then she’s on her tiptoes, grabbing a fistful of your shirt in her hand, and leaning in.

yui’s lips are soft, and sweet—they still taste like the ice cream she had earlier, and—wait. oh, my god.  _ oh, my god. _

yui’s  _ kissing  _ you.

you have no idea how to deal with this, so you’re just kind of—paralysed, partly in shock and partly in confusion. but you soon regret it, because yui pulls away all too soon and— 

“oh, god, i got this completely wrong, didn’t i,” she moans, before burying her face in her hands. “god, alto sax, i’m so sorry—”

this time it’s you grabbing her towards you. you quiet her by pressing your lips against hers, you try to show her that  _ god,  _ do you want this too; you try to express everything she’s ever made you feel ever since you’ve heard faint piano playing from the practice room next door.

you kiss imaizumi yui beneath the zelkova tree right by the corner of your house, and you think it couldn’t be any more perfect. 

  
  


-

  
  


the two of you had to say goodbye eventually, and as she walks away, you watch as she gets smaller and smaller, you can’t help but think— 

_ a girl as small as a violet, a girl who moves like a flower petal, is pulling me towards her with more force than her mass. _

your heart falls and falls, and lands with a quiet  _ thump. _

-

if you thought  _ today’s spring  _ was difficult to continue before, it’s impossible now.

the stutter of her breath when you kissed her, the moment she closed her eyes, the scent of her hair surrounding you.

there’s nothing in the world that can describe how any of that felt.

-

  
  


your palms sweat on your way to school. 

you have  _ no idea  _ how to handle this situation. nothing’s really  _ changed _ —you’re still gonna have a whole day of classes and they’re still gonna be tiring and fulfilling and the earth is still rotating on its axis and the day still has twenty-four hours. 

but there’s a monumental shift that’s occurred, to you. are you really going to have to go through an entire day before you see her again?

your question is answered when you see yui outside your first class. which is  _ woodwind ensemble.  _

what is  _ she  _ doing here?

“alto sax,” she greets. her smile has taken over her entire face, and you feel your mouth curl up, too, in response. 

“hey,” you say. “what are you doing here?”

“i had my people find out your schedule,” she says, a glint in her eye. 

you blink. that’s—well. 

your confusion and shock must have been written on your face, because yui laughs and says, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry. i just asked some of the winds majors i know. they said they had this class with you.”

“oh.” you laugh. “okay.”

“i just—” she bites her lip. ( _ jesus. _ ) “i realised when i got home last night that i wanted to talk about what happened, you know, but i open my phone just to find that we never got each other’s number.”

_ do we really _ ? you think, and try to trace back. you bring out your phone, scroll through your contacts. she’s right. 

she’s handing you her phone when you glance back up. “key it in. i’ll text you,” she says. 

you pocket your phone and grab hers, entering your number and inputting your name as  _ alto sax _ , for fun. “there,” you say, once you’re finished. 

“yay.” she grins, and types on her phone. two seconds later, yours buzzes. 

“that’s me,” yui says. “are you free for lunch, by the way?”

you nod. “you wanna meet?”

“yeah.” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “caf?”

“caf.”

“great! i’ll see you then.”

“see you,” you say, waving your hand. 

before she walks away, though, she catches your wrist, leans up, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. 

you fish out your phone, and you see that there’s a new message from an unknown number. 

_ hey, cutie ;) _

it’s a miracle you make it through ensemble alive. 

  
  


-

yui looks so out of place in the cafeteria, you think to yourself. you watch her as she taps her fingers on the table, her chin resting on the heel of her hand. an odd sight. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen her here before. 

“yui-chan,” you call softly, once you’re near enough. she whips her head around and beams at you. 

“hey, you,” she greets. “come sit.”

you do, right across from her. you’re fidgety and restless, so you fiddle with your thumbs and your legs bounce. 

yui’s pretty, today. she’s got some of her hair in a pin and she’s wearing a loose, white t-shirt that she somehow makes stylish. she smiles at you. 

“so,” she says, folding her hands in front of her. “how do you wanna go about this?” 

you shrug. “i like you,” you just say, because there’s really nothing else  _ to  _ say. 

yui just stares at you in stunned silence. she opens, her mouth, closes it, then opens it again and says, “sorry. it’s just different to hear it, i guess. and!” she straightens up. “i like you, too. in case that wasn’t clear.”

she proves her point. it’s different to hear it. your heart jumps. “i’m really,  _ really  _ happy, yui-chan.”

you’re sure that you’re giving a sickeningly sweet look, but you can’t really help yourself. you add, “and i’m okay with anything. we could really just take the train home everyday and i’d be fine.”

yui laughs lightly. “that sounds lovely to me, too. but can i take you out? to dinner?” she asks, and she lays her hand on the table. 

you reach out, slow, so she has time to retract her hand. but she doesn’t, so you let your fingers intertwine. “of course.”

she squeezes. “tomorrow’s friday.”

you nod. “tomorrow sounds great.”

  
  


-

the two of you burst into laughter when you enter the practice room. 

“why does this feel weird?” you ask, in between giggles. 

yui herself looks like she’s struggling to find her breath. “i don’t know!”

-

the awkwardness settles eventually, but you find yourself stealing an occasional glance at yui’s direction every few minutes, just because you love the way she looks when she plays. she loses the childish, fairy-like side of her and transforms into an absolute master of her instrument. 

she catches you, once, and you look away immediately. it feels like you’re younger and maybe a bit foolish, but you couldn’t honestly care less. 

-

**yui [10.03 pm]**

wear something nice tomorrow :D

**you [10.04 pm]**

Like how nice?

**yui [10.04 pm]**

like, first date nice

**you [10.07pm]**

Idk what that means but ok

-

you didn’t really feel like wearing a dress today, so you go with something that never fails you. a relaxed, white tee and your favourite pair of ankle-length jeans. you put on the necklace and ring your father gifted you two years ago, and you think the contrast looks nice. you finish it with this dark green oversized button-up you thrifted a few weeks back, leaving it open, and tying your hair into a bun. 

yui seems to like how you look. 

“i—wow, alto sax,” she says, giving you an up-and-down glance for the nth time. “you clean up well.”

“i try.” you wink. “got a girl to impress.”

“oh, trust me.” yui nods, quite zealous. “she’s impressed.”

-

the restaurant yui takes you to is one that’s not unfamiliar; not because you’ve been here, but because it’s one that you’ve only read and heard about. it’s actually one you’ve wanted to try. 

“isn’t it a bit hard to get a table here?” you ask, yui on your arm while you’re led to your table. 

“oh! we got lucky. the manager’s friends with my dad, so we got invited to eat here if ever we wanted to. i cashed in on that tonight,” she answers. 

you glance at her, confused, because what kind of dad must yui have to be able to get this kind of pull? but she just continues walking, so you don’t press on. tonight’s about the two of you only. 

when you’re seated, a waiter approaches your table and gasps in delight when he sees yui. “imaizumi-san!” he exclaims. “what a pleasure.”

“please, it’s all mine,” she replies, taking the menus he was offering. 

“and you brought a friend,” the waiter notes. he glances at you and gives you a warm grin. “do you attend the same school?”

“yes,” you answer. 

“and are you a music student, too, ma’am?” he asks. 

you nod. “i am.”

“now, now, daizo-san,” yui chimes in. “she’s new here, don’t scare her. recommend her something.”

“oh, of course!” your waiter—daizo—opens your menu for you. “anything for yui-san’s friend. here.” he points to their pasta selection. “these dishes are pretty friendly, everyone who comes by seems to like them. the truffle is our bestseller though.”

so you’ve heard. but when you look at the prices,  _ truffle _ —

“does that sound good?” yui asks you, eyebrow raised. 

“well, it does, bu—”

“daizo-san, i’ll take one,” yui says, then, “and i’ll have the garlic butter shrimp.”

“excellent choices, imaizumi-san.” daizo takes your menus and bows. “please just call if you need anything.”

he walks away, and as soon as you’re sure he can’t hear you, you hiss under your breath, “yui-chan. i—you should have told me we were going to a place like this. i didn’t quite bring enough with me.”

she waves her hand, dismissive. “manager, remember? our meals are on the house.”

you try not to let your jaw drop. it  _ really  _ seems like one heck of a pull her dad has. 

yui laughs. “let’s just enjoy tonight, alto sax.”

-

you can barely get halfway through your pasta. 

it’s your first time in a while to actually  _ go out _ , and you’re nervous as hell because you’re on a date with yui— _ a date with yui! _ —and you want to show that yes, of course anything with her is fine, but it’s a lot of people and you’re getting a bit stuffy, and what are you doing, leeching off of yui’s dad’s status like this? but then you don’t wanna disappoint—

“yui,” you hear a soft voice say. “yui.”

she rarely ever calls you yui. 

_ god _ , you’re fucking up. 

“yeah?” you ask, looking at her. 

she gives you a sad, sad smile, and it gives you a pang in your chest. she says, “you’re uncomfortable.”

“i—” you sigh, return your gaze to the ground. this is yui. she doesn’t deserve to be lied to. you inhale. “a bit, yeah. i’m not used to places like this.”

she laughs. “i tried too hard, huh?” she remarks, hiding behind her hand as she twirls her fork. “i actually feel a little weird, too.”

“you do?” you ask, looking at her again. 

yui nods. “i got too caught up in imagining what a  _ perfect  _ date would be like, so.”

“thank you for trying,” you say anyway, because imagining yui tossing and turning and searching on her phone about where to take you makes your heart swell. 

yui glances towards her left, then her right, then back at you. she scrunches her nose. “wanna get out of here?”

-

yui settles things with daizo and the two of you leave. 

it’s another quite chilly night, and yui seems to have gotten the habit of clinging onto your arm whenever you’re walking outside together. but she’s quiet, and she still seems really down, so you find a way to cheer her up. 

there’s a memory that called out to you, right after you saw how daizo talked to yui. 

“even the waiter at a famous restaurant is charmed by imaizumi yui,” you say, returning her words to you from that day. “no one is spared.”

yui lets out an absolutely lovely laugh,  _ finally _ , and you can’t help but laugh along, too. 

-

the two of you spot and empty park bench and decide to go for it despite the cold. park benches are just as cliche as fancy restaurants, so at least you’ve still filled  _ that  _ quota. 

but this one’s better because it’s quieter, and there’s no one around, and you can just enjoy your time with yui without having to worry about anything else. 

“i like this,” you tell her, because you can sense that she’s still beating herself up a bit. 

yui hums, snuggles a little closer to you. “this is nice, yeah.”

you chuckle. “hey, do you think—” 

when you turn to face yui, her face is a lot closer than you anticipated. her cheeks are flushed and her gaze is heavy, flitting between your eyes and your mouth. 

this time, when she kisses you, you’re expecting it. it’s wonderfully slow, and saccharine, and yui reaches out for your hand and intertwines your fingers. it’s an incredibly sweet gesture, and you feel a warmth blooming in your chest. 

but you can’t have all nice things, you presume, because loud yelling interrupts this blissful moment, and the two of you jump and pull away. 

you see that it comes from the bar right across the street, as a group of men in suits exit noisily. they’re roughhousing and shouting, obviously drunk but seemingly having a good time. 

“i bet one of them just got a promotion,” yui says, giggling and leaning her head on your shoulder. 

you adjust your position so she’s a bit more comfortable and wrap your arm around her shoulder. “nah. i call high school friends having a reunion.”

“what makes you say that?”

“look at them.” you point to them with your chin. “they can’t be apart from each other for more than two seconds. people who work together everyday aren’t  _ that  _ clingy.”

“point taken.” yui nods. she then turns her head and says, “and them?”

there’s a group of three people walking down the sidewalk, a guy and two girls. they seem really close to each other to you, though, and of different ages, so you say, “siblings.”

yui laughs. “i agree.”

“what about them?” you ask, spotting two more figures in the dark. 

a boy and a girl, the boy with his hands shoved in his pockets, the girl with her hands behind her back. they walk side-by-side, and the smiles on their faces are wide. 

“hmm.” yui taps her chin. “i call … third date.”

“really?” 

yui nods. 

“it looks like a first one, to me.”

yui laughs— _ again.  _ “just like us?”

you pull her closer. “just like us.”

  
  


-

that’s how the rest of your evening goes. 

“oof, alto sax, look at that one over there. breakup?”

“hm. maybe the bills just came in.”

“god, that girl over there can barely stand.”

“ooh, yeah. it’s friday, after all.”

“oh, poor thing. look at that one over there—yeah, the one coming from the café. all those readings …”

“yikes.”

“i wonder if anyone’s looking at us and guessing who we are, too.”

you snort. “just  _ gals  _ being  _ pals _ !”

yui cackles and punches your arm. “you’re ridiculous.”

“what? i’m just sayi—”

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.  _ crap.  _ it might as well have been a blaring alarm, really. 

you already know what it is even before fishing it out and checking the notification bubble. it’s a text from your mother— _ Don’t stay out too late, yui-chan _ —which you know is code for  _ Come home now! _

yui seems to have read it, too. you feel her grip on you tighten. “do you really have to go?” she asks, voice small. 

you  _ melt. _ you’d stay here forever, if you could. you try and soothe her by stroking her hair. “i do. i’m sorry.”

yui pouts, but then loosens her grip on you and sighs. “okay.”

“i had a wonderful time,” you tell her. 

she nods. “me, too.”

you chuckle. she doesn’t look pleased at all. you pull her close and give her a kiss on her forehead. “i’ll see you,” you say, standing up. 

yui gives you the most adorable, peeved wave goodbye.

  
  


-

**you [11.17 pm]**

Text me when you’re home

**yui [11.34 pm]**

i’m home!!!

**yui [11.34 pm]**

i miss you already :((

**you [11.35 pm]**

That’s good. And I miss you too. Get some rest

**yui [11.35 pm] **

okay!! goodnight <3

**you [11.35 pm]**

Goodnight <3

-

yui waits for you at the school entrance the next morning. you can’t help a small smile when you see her, and when you’re close enough, she grabs your hand, kisses your cheek, and greets, “morning, babe!”

your heart jumps in your throat. “b-babe?!”

yui winces. “too much?”

you shake your head. “it just … needs some getting used to, that’s all.”

“okay.” yui says, the adds with a devilish grin, “ _ babe. _ ”

you feel your cheeks burn. “ _ stop  _ it.”

-

it feels like everything and nothing’s changed at the same time. 

you text a little bit more, and yui is bolder when she wants to hold your hand, and you are, too, when you want to inch just  _ that  _ much closer to her. and also, you kiss now:  _ that’s _ definitely new. 

but you still practice together and share the train ride home and it feels so  _ right _ . she still calls you  _ alto sax _ —when she’s not calling you  _ babe _ —and it just sits well in the middle of your chest. she still laughs at everything you say, and you still get those same butterflies when you hear it. sometimes you get ice cream, sometimes coffee, sometimes a burger, when either of you are particularly famished. 

it’s something new and something familiar. it’s home and a honeymoon. 

-

yui is the one more outward with her affections, you’ve noticed, and maybe you’d like to change that. 

because she just posted the absolute  _ cutest  _ selfie on her instagram, and you literally cannot stop looking at it. you’ve been staring at it for so long that you think your eyes will melt off soon but she—she’s just so—gah. 

**you [9.23 am]**

[image]

:(

**yui [9.23 am]**

omg

do you not like it?

**you [9.23 am]**

No!!!

I love it

You’re so cute :(((

So cute!!!!! 

**yui [9.24 am]**

oh my godkshfdsg

stop shhdjsshsg

**you [9.24 am]**

I get to kiss the cutest girl in the world!! How awesome is that?

**yui [9.24 am]**

babe i’m in classssss

**you [9.24 am]**

Oh woops

**yui [9.25 am]**

i’m gonna get caught and my classmate beside me is already asking why my ears are red

**you [9.25 am]**

Cute!!!!!!!

**yui [9.25 am]**

kobayashi yui.

i am putting my phone on do not disturb and i will see you for lunch.

**yui [9.25 am]**

Oh omg okay see you!

-

kissing yui is really,  _ really  _ nice. 

you should start getting worried, at this point, because most of your afternoons in the practice room are spent making out with her more than anything else. but—can you complain? can you really?

because yui knows just when to tug a little bit and when to bite down. she knows when to slow and she knows when to press firmer into you. she smiles a lot, too, which you find really, really adorable—even if it results sometimes in your teeth clacking. but that’s okay, because everytime yui does something  _ just right _ electricity zips down your spine and a warmth settles in your chest. 

so this is how you find yourselves, another sunset spent together sharing the piano bench. she’s—yui’s practically on  _ top  _ of you, god, and she just—

“ow!” yui exclaims, pulling away quick. 

you return your hands to your sides immediately, and you survey her face in panic. “sorry! fuck, did i hurt you?”

she shakes her head. “no, babe, you could  _ never _ , i just …” she sighs. “my lip. it caught onto your tooth.”

_ my tooth _ ?

  1. _that _tooth. 

you reach for it, poking at it from the outside of your cheek. you’ve always hated the damn thing, but your parents never had the time—or money, frankly—to get it fixed. 

“sorry,” you mumble, turning your gaze down. “it’s really always been a problem.”

yui tuts. “yui, no,” she says, cradling your face and lifting it up so you’re facing her again. “it’s  _ very _ charming,” she assures you. 

you face away again. “no, it’s not,” you counter. the kids in your class in first grade didn’t seem to find it charming, as you remember. unless being called ‘half walrus’ was a sign that you’ve gotten someone’s affections. 

“what are you—yui, babe, come on. look at me.”

you do, raising your head slowly. yui’s gaze is sincere, imploring. she tells you, “smile for me.”

“ _ what? _ ”

“you heard me! come on, smile for me.” she tugs one of your cheeks upward. repeatedly. 

you find her so ridiculous that you end up giggling softly, slapping her hand away. 

“there we go!” yui says. “now come on, i want a bigger one.”

she’s grinning at you, and you’ve always been weak for that damn smile, so. you find yourself mirroring her. 

“a  _ little  _ more,” she says, gesturing with her thumb and index. 

you follow, widening your grin and feeling the stretch in your cheeks. 

“kya!” yui squeals, just before tackling you into a hug and burying her face in your shoulder. she takes another quick glance at you before squealing and tucking her head again. 

you wrap your arms around her middle. “what?”

whatever she answers is muffled by your shoulder. 

you pull away and bend a little so you can see her face. “what was that?”

yui glances at you, shy. “my yui-chan is so good-looking,” she says, exaggerating. she tucks her hair behind her ear and blushes and everything. “ _ oh _ , what am i supposed to do when you smile at me like that and your little tooth sticks out?” she asks, putting her hand on her chest dramatically. 

she really is  _ so  _ dumb. you laugh at her antics. “really? my tooth? just my tooth and i’ve got you?”

“oh why of course!” yui answers, still in the act. “i love everything about you.”

  
  


-

_ i think you going after what you want is the most badass thing in the universe.  _

_ i love everything about you.  _

yui, with her own hands, is slowly erasing everything you’ve ever hated about yourself, like—

spring melting away a harsh winter. 

you grab your unfinished piece, map out the melody that’s bursting forth in your head.

  
  


-

  
  


“yui-chan!” someone yells while you’re walking yui to her next class. 

the two of you whip your heads around at the same time, but as it turns out the person who called was yui’s friend, not yours. yui waves and smiles back. 

after, the two of you look at each other and giggle. 

“so many yui-chans in the world, huh,” yui remarks. 

you nudge her with your elbow and waggle your eyebrows. “you’re the only yui-chan in  _ my  _ world.”

the laugh yui lets out is so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole campus heard it. “so greasy!” she says, slapping your arm. 

okay, so  _ maybe  _ you’d give her all the cheesy lines in the world if it meant you could hear that again.

  
  


-

“ _ hey _ ,” yui says. “ _ do you want to start telling people _ ?”

you frown at your phone screen. yui—albeit a pixelated one—has concern written all over her face, the corners of her mouth pointing downward and a wrinkle forming between her brows. 

you bite your lip. “i don’t know,” you whisper, honest. “do you?”

“ _ i just want to tell a couple of my close friends, _ ” yui answers. “ _ i feel like i’m … well, lying to them _ .”

god, you didn’t even think of that. yui’s not like you—where you can keep things from manaka and risa just fine, you’re comfortable with telling them when you’re ready. but yui must have been itching to tell them, like  _ hey, i’ve been seeing someone!  _ or like,  _ i have a girlfr— _

wait. 

_ wait.  _

“yui,” you exhale, and your voice is quieter than you expected. 

the change in yui’s face is immediate. her eyes widen and she moves closer to her phone’s camera. she‘s quick to ask, “ _ what? what? _ ”

you take a deep breath in. “am i—” you swallow. “your girlfriend?” 

yui’s jaw drops almost comically, and she stares at you in silence for—you count  _ one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine  _ seconds before she breaks out into laughter. 

“ _ alto sax _ ,” she says, in between trying to catch her breath. she has an arm on her stomach and she’s keeling over. “ _ god, you had me scared there _ .”

you frown. “what’s so funny?”

“ _ nothing! _ ” she squeals, and she stiffens her body and forces her mouth close. but soon enough, she can’t take it and ends up cackling again. 

“yui-chan,” you whine. 

“ _ okay, okay, wait, i’m sorry,”  _ she breathes out, her laughter slowly dying down. she straightens her face and takes a deep breath and says, “ _ okay. okay, i’m okay. _ ”

you pout at her. 

“_i’m sorry, it’s just—it looked so serious, i thought it was a major problem—not that your question isn’t important. it’s just that i’ve been thinking of you as my girlfriend for weeks now._ _and then you suddenly asked? like, i didn’t even consider that we aren’t girlfriends yet.”_

she’s smiling, the small, shy one you’ve grown to love because it’s so rare. and you imagine the same smile on her face as she has an arm around your waist and says, “ _ this is my girlfriend _ ,” and it makes a pleasant warmth settle in your stomach. 

“oh,” you reply, feeling a grin growing on your face. “girlfriends, then.”

“yeah!” yui beams, then nods her head. “and my friends and i are meeting tomorrow night. come with?”

you nod, too. “okay.”

  
  


-

  
  


it’s a pretty quiet, small affair. 

it’s just at one of yui’s friends’ houses. there’s just a few of you—six, if you count yourself, and you couldn’t be happier that it’s just this small. anything a bit bigger might have overwhelmed you. 

the first person that greets you is a fairly tall girl with short hair and an incredibly commanding presence—she’s a magnet, almost, with that aura of hers. but then she smiles at you and her eyes kind of disappear into crescents and she says, with a very soft voice, “hello. my name is hirate yurina.”

“she’s our baby,” yui whispers to you, and you really have to hold yourself back from showing any surprise. you smile back and say a “hello,” too. 

yurina leads the two of you to the living room, where the rest of yui’s friends are gathered in a circle on the floor, surrounded by snacks and drinks. they all whoop and cheer and holler when they see the two of you arrive, and yui laughs really loud in response. they all kind of scuffle and move aside so there’s a space for the two of you in the circle, and you take your seats. 

they all quiet down and look at yui very expectantly, with expressions that pretty much say  _ well, get on with it! _

“hey guys,” yui says, face absolutely red. “this is my girlfriend—”

“ _ yeah! _ ” someone exclaims, and it seems to signal the rest of the group to resume their whooping and their cheering. there’s applause, some whistling, and some slapping yui on the back, and it’s just such a lovely—but also  _ incredibly funny _ —scene that you can’t help some laughs of your own. 

once it calms down, yui finally introduces you properly, and the girl immediately beside you smiles and says, “hi! i’m fuyuka. everyone calls me fuuchan, though.”

“hello, fuuchan,” you manage, and she beams. you give her a smile, too.

the two friend of yui’s you haven’t been introduced to yet are the ones seated directly across from you. one is tall—like,  _ really  _ tall, lean, tan, and quite good looking. the girl leaning on her was fair skinned, cute, and had light, chin length brown hair.

“that one’s habu-chan,” yui says, pointing to the tall, lean one. she waves at you, a nd you wave back. “and that one’s mii-chan,” yui continues, pointing to the other one. _ mii-chan _ gives you an adorable smile, and you wave at her, too.

there’s something different about how habu and miichan— _ mizuho  _ and  _ minami _ , you later learn—move. you watch the two of them as the rest of the group catch up with each other. they’re like waves, almost, stuck in this weird, almost dance. they seem to know what the other is thinking, like how minami handed mizuho a cup of soda without a word, or how habu opens up her arms just before minami inches closer to her.

it makes you wonder.

“yui-chan,” you whisper into her ear.

she perks up and replies, “yeah?”

“habu and koike.” you eye the two of them. “are they … ?”

“oh,” yui says, gulping down the food she was chewing and nodding. “yeah, yeah. they’re dating.”

you glance at the two of them again, and  _ of course they are. _ the more you look at them, the more you’re convinced that they might actually be one of the most good-looking couples you’ve ever seen. the two of them are attractive enough on their own, but together it’s almost as if they were  _ meant  _ to be with each other,if you were judging by looks. how mizuho is sharp and angular where minami is round and soft. like night and day. like earth and sky. 

“how long?” you ask yui. 

“oh, man,” yui says, puts on a little pout as she thinks. “two years? but they’ve been best friends since  _ forever _ .”

ah, that’s where it comes from, you think. the way they don’t need to speak to know what the other needs.

you watch them with a vague envy but it’s not  _ really  _ jealousy. admiration? perhaps. like you’re determined to get what they have. 

the years mizuho and minami have spent as friends—those are years you never had with yui. years you’ll never get back, but you don’t mind. meeting yui at the northwest wing was perfect. you couldn’t ask for more.

unconsciously, you reach for her hand. you have a lot of catching up to do, but you’re glad to start the journey. 

-

the night goes well. 

fuyuka in particular is lovely. she always urges you to speak, asks you questions—but is never invasive. she’s a joy to talk to, and you feel comfortable already. minami is adorable, expressive, and is feistier than her looks suggest; she’s also really, really funny. mizuho is a lot more soft spoken than you thought, and it took a while for the both of you to warm up to each other—yui said that she was just as shy as you—but you clicked eventually. and yurina, who turns out to be the owner of the house, was charming and quite the considerate one, always asking if you wanted more water or if you needed anything, really. 

you watch them from the kitchen where you’ve gone to place your used glass. they’re laughing, most likely at something minami said, but then yui meets your eyes and sends you a smile. you return it, and then you see her get up from her place and approach you. 

“you okay?” she asks. 

you nod. “they’re great,” you reply. 

“really?” she hooks her fingers through your belt loops and steps closer. she looks up. “will you come with me more often? to things like this?”

“hmmm.” you place your arms on each of her shoulder and interlock your fingers. “i’ll think about it.”

yui smiles and is tiptoeing, her eyes fluttering close, and you lean down so you can meet her halfw—

“oi!” a voice calls. “lovebirds! we’re about to play uno!”

the two of you laugh and settle with resting your foreheads against each other. 

“come on!” fuyuka adds. “i wanna see how good pon is!”

you laugh louder. you told them to call you  _ yuipon _ earlier, so they could differentiate you and yui, but as it turns out they’ve been calling yui something else already:  _ zuumin _ , whatever that’s supposed to be. so you tried to make them go back to calling you yui-chan, instead, but  _ pon  _ stuck. as it did with your friends, too. 

“we’re being called,” you whisper, and yui responds by scrunching her nose and frowning. she looks adorable, so you give her a quick kiss to wipe the expression off her face. “come on.”

as the two of you retake your places and all of yui’s friends seem excited to play this game with you, you feel your heart grow just the tiniest bit. just enough to make room for four more people. 

-

introducing you to her friends seems to have made yui braver. 

her kisses linger a lot longer, now, and have grown increasingly heated. it’s a good change of pace, but it surprises you nonetheless. she’s a lot more restless, too—some days, she’d grab you when she knew it was your free period and lead you to the nearest bathroom stall. you’ve never really kissed in school outside of the practice room, so semi-public spaces are still new to you. 

it happens when the two of you take the train, too. she usually rests her hand on your knee, but recently she’s taken to inching her fingers slowly up your thigh, leaving you breathless and beet red when you get off on your station.

she also leaves marks on places that are a bit more visible, leaving you having to struggle with adjusting your clothes to hide it better. 

you can feel that she kind of itches to let everyone know that you’re hers, and now that some people do, she’s become more insistent. 

you’re not ready yet, though. 

someday. 

  
  


-

you know, all of that considered, you now wonder what being possessed you to think today was a good idea. 

yui had asked you if you were free this weekend, maybe you guys could go on another date. you said no—you have a big test the monday after, and as much as another date sounds nice, you really need to study. you’d suggested another friday after school, but she pouted and said it wasn’t enough time, and asked if she could accompany you while you study instead. 

you said you don’t study outside school, and to that, yui simply shrugged and said “i’ll come to your house, then.”

so here you are, in your bedroom, after yui insisted you had a lovely home and you politely accepted the compliments. 

the thing is: neither of your parents are home. it’s a saturday, and it’s not unusual for their saturdays to be packed, and you being alone on saturdays was so instilled in your routine that you  _ completely  _ forgot to consider it. 

you can  _ feel  _ yui’s gaze on you. heavy. it’s so distracting that you’re pretty sure you’ve read the same sentence eleven times now and you  _ still  _ don’t know what it says. 

“yui,” you say, eyes never leaving your reading. 

“yeah?” she squeaks. 

you smirk. she’s hopeless. “ _ behave. _ ”

“i—” she humphs. “i  _ am  _ behaving!”

you roll your eyes and shake your head. “okay,” you reply. 

the frustration comes off of yui in  _ waves.  _ you see her crossing her arms from the corner of your vision, and she says, “well, maybe if you weren’t so hot!”

that catches your attention. you finally look at her, and raise your brows. “what?”

she huffs and looks away. 

“yui.” you look down at what you’re wearing and gesture towards it. “i’m literally in a shirt and shorts.” the shirt doesn’t even fit you well. it hangs loose off your shoulders. 

“exactly,” you hear yui whisper. 

you laugh. you’ve never really been good at resisting her, so you put what you were reviewing aside and move towards her. “you like this?” you ask, before taking her lips in yours. 

she responds, sweet, and hums in approval. she puts her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer. her tongue slips into your mouth, and you feel her other hand on your shoulder, gripping hard. 

the two of you make your way to your bed, yui as insistent as ever. you wonder if she’s ever thought about this—about  _ you _ —and sends a jolt straight in between your legs. 

you end up beneath her, and yui’s lips make their way down your jaw and your neck, down to that delicious spot that yui seems to love to take advantage of. a whine escapes your lips, and you feel yui smile. 

it’s then she tugs at your shirt, and without thinking, in your panic, you put your hand on top of hers. 

yui flinches back immediately, as if she had snapped out of it. “god—yui-chan—i’m sorry. i’m sorry,” she says. “i got carried away. you can—” she takes a deep breath. “you can go back to studying.”

“no,” you reply quickly, pulling her closer. “no, i just. i panicked, sorry. we’ve never really …”

“yeah,” yui says. “that’s why i said we don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you exhale. you never realised how much you’ve wanted this until just moments ago. “i want to.”

yui studies you closely, as if still suspicious. eventually, though, she nods her head and says, “okay.”

she leans down to kiss you again, but this time, she takes her shirt off first. it’s a sweet gesture, but you don’t really have the brain capacity to process that, because now all of yui’s skin is here, for you. you run your hands from her stomach to her back, loving how her muscles seem to twitch in response to your touch. 

when she tugs on your shirt this time, you don’t resist. you arch your back off from the bed and let her pull it from you, and you see her toss it aside. her kisses move downward again, and she leaves a mark on your collarbone before moving on to suck on the underside of your breast. 

now  _ that’s  _ something new. she sucks and works her fingers on your nipples at the same time, and your head becomes this singular fog, and you almost think this is  _ too much too much too much _ , because your skin is burning and there’s a coil in your stomach that’s tightening and—

“yui,” you suddenly hear. 

you open your eyes—you didn’t even know they were squeezed shut—and you see yui hovering above you, her face twisted in worry. 

“you’re shaking like a leaf,” she whispers. “are you sure you want this? we can stop—”

“no, it’s just—” you swallow. you  _ are  _ trembling. “i’ve never …”

realisation dawns on yui’s face. “oh.  _ oh. _ ”

“yeah.”

“are you  _ sure _ , then?” yui brushes the hair off of your face and cradles your cheek. “are you sure?”

“i—of course, yes,” you say. “yes, yui-chan. i’m sure.”

yui nods. “okay, then.” she leans in and presses light kisses on your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. “thank you for trusting me,” she tells you, interlacing your fingers. “i’ll make you feel good. okay?”

you hum and you can feel your body rush with anticipation. “okay.”

there’s not much talking after that.

-

when you wake up, it’s dusk. 

yui’s curled into you, and you can feel her drawing patterns on your stomach, and she’s humming a song you don’t know. when she notices you’re awake, she smiles at you and says, “hey.”

“hey there,” you say, and when you adjust your position a little bit, you feel a soreness in your hips. 

you feel your cheeks burn.  _ right.  _ that just happened. 

“you okay?” yui asks. “because—because if you didn’t like that, yui, we could never do it again. i promise. that’s fine.”

you laugh and stroke her hair. “don’t be ridiculous,” you reply. “did it seem like i didn’t like it?”

“well,” yui replies. “would i be presumptuous to think that you did?”

“not at all. i liked it a  _ lot _ .”

yui giggles. “i’m glad.”

the room gets a little warmer, and you notice that the sun is now well setting, the sky gold and pink and purple. 

it’s another sunset spent looking at yui, how gorgeous she looks when it glows behind her, just like how you’ve seen it so many times before. 

you don’t want to look at anything else. 

-

“oi! there she is! kobayashi!” you hear a voice call.

you whip your head around, trying to find who it could be. it’s lunch; the halls are crowded. but soon enough you see someone waving at you, her other hand cupped beside her mouth. fuyuka yells again, “yuipon!”

you smile and head towards her, weaving your way through the mass of bodies. when you arrive, you’re surprised to see that yui’s beside fuyuka, her head ducked down.

“fuuchan,” you greet, tilting your head, and then you turn and say, “yui-chan.”

yui doesn’t look up. you frown and mouth to fuyuka,  _ what’s wrong?  _

fuyuka grins, looking like she’s about to cause a wreck. you’re  _ kinda  _ scared, you have to admit. she starts, “so the thing with zuumin is—”

yui grabs onto fuyuka’s arm and squeezes,  _ hard.  _ fuyuka gasps and snatches her arm back, holds it close to her chest. “okay,  _ ow. _ ”

to that, yui simply gives fuyuka a look of disapproval and the crosses her arms over her chest. she huffs and turns her head away again. you chuckle, shaking your head.

“i was  _ saying _ .” fuyuka clears her throat. “zuumin has been dopey  _ and  _ overly enthusiastic all morning. all  _ yippee!  _ and  _ ahh~  _ and whatnot. and she only gets this way after a certain  _ something  _ happens.”

“o … kay?” you purse your lips. you’re not quite following.

“this only happens,” fuyuka continues, “when she—” 

yui strikes again, jumping on fuyuka and clapping a hand over her mouth. fuyuka struggles, her voice muffled as she protests and tries to pry yui away from her. you’re kind of frozen in shock for a bit because you’ve never quite seen yui like this, but you come to your senses and put your hands on yui’s waist, pulling her back.

“darling,” you tell her, now that you’ve grabbed onto her arm and she’s standing beside you. “that’s not nice.”

fuyuka dusts herself off and shoots yui a glare. “ _ anyway, _ ” she says, “zuumin only gets like this—” she steps back and gives yui a look of caution, and when she deems that yui is not going to try to cut her off again, she looks at you and says, “—when she gets laid.”

you’re supposed to be embarrassed, but you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat. you laugh and laugh, at yui’s shyness, at the fact that she has an after-sex mood, at the fact that fuyuka is telling you about it. it’s your turn to find things funny while yui is absolutely fuming, slapping your shoulder and saying, “alto sax! this isn’t funny!” and “stop laughing!”

there are tears in your eyes and your stomach hurts by the time you’ve calmed down. yui’s clearly upset, so you put an arm around her and hold her close. she grumbles, but you just smile and kiss the crown of her head to soothe her.

“so?” fuyuka waggles her eyebrows. “do you confirm or deny these allegations?”

you laugh and wave your free hand, just to get this over with. “i confirm, i confirm.”

fuyuka lets out an  _ aha _ ! and yui just pinches your side. “ _ babe _ .” she says, through gritted teeth. 

“what?” you ask. “i was just telling the truth!”

“i  _ know _ , but—”

“so, zuum.” fuyuka claps her hands together and turns to yui with wide eyes. “how’s yuipon? is she good? do we need habu and miichan to give her some pointers? what does she—”

“fuuchan,” yui warns. “she’s  _ right here _ .”

you are enjoying teasing yui  _ way too much.  _ maybe because most of the time, it’s the other way around. “no, no,” you say. “please do tell.”

yui remains silent, staring at you with an absolute look of defiance. 

you smirk. “i recall you liking when i—”

“ _ kobayashi yui. _ ”

“what? you don’t want fuuchan to know what i did? but you liked it so much!  _ oh, yui, yes, keep doi— _ ”

right when yui says “ _ shut up! _ ” the bell rings. 

fuyuka winks at the two of you. “tell me all the dirty deets when you can.”

she walks away, and you giggle as yui repeatedly slaps you, saying “i hate you! i hate you!”

  
  


-

  
  


“yui,” your father calls you from across the table. 

you look up from your dinner. “dad?”

he takes off his glasses and rubs his brow. he sighs. “i hate this conversation as much you do,  _ trust  _ me,” he says, “but we need to talk about … your path.”

you purse your lips. you don’t dread these things so much anymore. they’ve become reasonable; they don’t talk to you to enforce something—they want to have an  _ actual _ , two-sided conversation, which, you know, is better. 

“i found this,” he says, getting something from his back pocket. he lays it on the table, and you see that it’s for a … seminar, of sorts. 

you pick it up, study it. “what’s this?”

“as much as i’d love for you to play your sax—in a band, or by yourself—there’s risks, honey,” he tells you. “we’ve talked about it. irregular income. narrow opportunities. no room for mediocrity.”

you nod. risks you’re willing to take, nonetheless. 

“this workshop.” he gestures toward the brochure. “it’s designed to help people like you. young people who are about to start their careers. it helps with public speaking, corporate training, etcetera. so if ever playing the sax doesn’t work out, you have a cushion.”

you read about it. it doesn’t seem too bad—you  _ do  _ need help in dealing with other people. but that’s the thing; you’ll have to meet completely new people in this workshop to start with. it’s also two months long, meeting twice a week, and that could pose issues with your schedule. 

but your father is only asking for  _ this much _ .

“i would give the world to you, yui-chan,” he says, and you look up. his eyes are deep. sincere. “but i can’t. and i don’t decide, either. if the universe does not give you the happiness you want, i want you at least to be prepared.”

your heart twists. any time you’d think about your plans in music going awry, you shut them off immediately. you can’t afford to spiral like that. but now that your father puts it front and center, you can’t help but look at the possibilities. how many ways this could go wrong. 

“there are some things that the world decides you do not deserve to have. and that’s cruel, i know,” he continues. “but that’s just how it is.”

you sigh. you know this. you do; you have a laundry list of things you have but think you do not deserve. and if music turns out to be one of them—well. 

“okay, dad. i’ll do this.”

  
  


-

you’ve read the brochure so many times you think you’ve memorised it by now.

it’s 2am, and you can’t sleep—what  _ if  _ you can’t play the sax?

you sigh, loud and heavy, and set it aside. you turn off your lights. 

-

“yui?” someone whispers. 

you lift your head from your book. you’d chosen the library this free period; the study area is usually full, because there aren’t many tables to begin with, but you lucked out today. 

“yui.” you blink. “what are you doing here? don’t you have class?”

“teach didn’t come,” yui replies, and part of you wonders if she’s lying. you’re not complaining, though. “figured i’d join you here.”

you nod and take hold of her hand, urging her to sit beside you. “okay.”

neither of you really let go, even if it becomes awkward when you need to flip a page or need to note something down. but—you hate how this sounds—yui’s hands fit so nicely in yours. they’re so small, but then you remember the wonders they can do with the piano, and suddenly you feel like you’re holding something holy.

“hey,” yui calls. “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to—but you’ve been off? lately? has something been bothering you?”

  1. so she’s noticed. 

“i’m sorry,” you answer. “did i say something i shouldn’t have? was i rude to you?”

“not at all!” yui shakes her head. “i just … i felt it.”

you sigh and set what you were studying aside. “it’s just—the usual stuff. family’s been bugging me about jazz.”

“ah.” yui gives you a sympathetic smile. “i thought they were getting better though?”

“they  _ are _ , but they still have their qualms.” you shrug. “i don’t blame them, though. if i had a kid who wanted to do music, too …”

yui nods. “yeah.”

you lay your head flat on the table, your cheek resting against the cool wood. you close your eyes, your thoughts restless, swirling and swirling within the confines of your head. would you be happy  _ and  _ have a stable future? is it truly possible to have both? there’s endless talent in this school, and sure, you’re okay yourself, but what if you’re denying so many possibilities because of your focus on music? can you really—

“yui.”

that voice, again. absolutely unfailing in how it makes your breath stutter. 

you turn around, resting your other cheek on the table. yui had mirrored your position, her head flat, too. she brings her thumb to the middle of your brow, wipes away the crease that forms there. 

and she’s looking at you— _ god _ , why does she even  _ look at you like that _ ? she looks at you like there couldn’t be anything better to see. 

“let’s go out, yeah?” she says. takes her hand from your face and slides it down your shoulder, your arm, before taking your hand. she laces your fingers together. “try to make you forget what’s bothering you. just for a little bit.”

you smile. “we’ll  _ actually  _ go out, right? not spend the night in a room—”

“ _ alto sax _ ,” she warns, but the grin on her face shows she’s playful. “i mean it. a proper date, this time. and no fancy restaurants.”

she drops the rest of her fingers so that it’s just your little fingers interlocked. a promise. 

you nod. “i’d love that, yui.”

  
  


-

at the practice room, yui asks, “is there anywhere in particular you want to go?”

you stop from annotating your sheet music, putting your pencil to your chin as you think. “hmm. nothing comes to mind.”

“can i surprise you?”

“ _ again? _ ”

“i promise i’ll make up for last time!”

you laugh. yui could take you to a landfill and you’d enjoy it. “okay, okay. surprise me.”

  
  


-

  
  


it’s as cliche as it gets, again. yui has taken you to an amusement park. 

you can’t really remember if you’ve ever been to one. not that you dislike them—but they’ve never just been something you found particularly enjoyable. and school’s been kicking your ass too, so. 

yui’s got cute little giraffe ears on and she’s practically skipping throughout the park. she  _ oohs  _ and  _ ahhs _ at pretty much everything she sees: from the rides to the stuffed toys at the game booths to the cotton candy being sold near the waiting lines. 

the two of you get on  _ everything _ . you’re pretty sure you’re going to be hoarse the next day and it’s a wonder your food is still in your stomach. a death drop, a viking, and two takes on the rollercoaster, even the ones that get you wet. 

yui never lets go of your hand the entire time. she tightens it when she’s scared and she settles for a loose grip when she’s walking. she’s laughing and smiling and it’s—it’s just a really nice night. 

you’re wandering around after buying two fruit juices to offer your body  _ some  _ sort of replenishment. but then it doesn’t last long, because yui gasps and points for what you think is the forty-sixth time tonight. 

“a  _ ferris wheel _ , alto sax!” she says. “now this is a must. we can’t skip this one.”

she’s said that about  _ everything _ in the park, but you don’t mind. you shake your head and smile. “alright. let’s do it.”

“yay!”

the line is forgivingly short, thank god, and you’re in a car just after a few minutes. at least this one isn’t too much of a thrilling, breakneck speed kind of ride, so it’s easier to enjoy your moment. 

“yui,” she calls. “when we get to the top, let’s make a wish.”

you raise and eyebrow. “you watch too many movies.”

“come  _ on _ ,” she whines. she grabs your wrist and tugs on your arm. “we’re here already, might as well.”

it’s  _ dangerous _ , at this point. how easily you agree to anything she says. you sigh. “okay.”

the ride to the top isn’t fast by any means, and the two of you settle nicely with the change of pace. you remain quiet, giving yourselves relief from all the screaming you’ve done all day. you slide down a bit and rest your head on yui’s shoulder, and yui adjusts herself to a comfortable height for you. 

nearing the top, yui says, “i’ve never seen the city like this before.”

you hum. “me neither.”

yui turns her head, an awkward angle, trying to look at you. “you’re not even looking!”

“mmm.”

“ _ yui! _ ”

“what?”

“you’re bein—

“ah.” you take a look around. “we’re here.”

true enough, the only other ferris wheel cars you see are below you on both sides, so you’re definitely at the top. tokyo is ablaze before you, serene and ferocious, quiet and lively. 

you close your eyes and hum. “i wish,” you say, “that my mom makes bacon for breakfast tomorrow.”

yui giggles. but then it fades, slowly, not like it usually does. you look at her. her shoulders are hunched. her fists clenched. 

“yui—”

“i wish.” she inhales. “i wish this could last forever, alto sax.” her voice is soft, small. nothing like the yui just seconds ago.

“yui?” you ask, searching, seeking. yearning. 

the reply you get is a lunge for your lips. 

yui’s relentless, barely letting you breathe. she’s pulling on your hair with one hand and feeling up your shirt with the other. and yui— _ always  _ feels amazing. you’re hooked; your fingers digging into her back. but you know it’s her way to not talk about what she actually wants to talk about. 

the two of you barely notice it when it’s time for you to get down from the ride. you wonder if the conductor who opened your door put two and two together with yui’s mussed makeup and your wrinkled shirt. you’re sure you’re not the first couple to be on this ride. he gives a knowing look, which means he probably has, so you duck your head and grab yui’s hand so you guys can get out of there.

and as you watch yui still excitedly hop from attraction to attraction, beautiful and radiant, lively and wonderful, laugh bright and smile wide, you can’t help but hope this could last forever, too.

**Author's Note:**

> “today’s spring” is just my very crude translation of 今泉 (imaizumi), lmao.  
[curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/pisceshorizon).


End file.
